So I’m starting up a new series on this here blog. It has come to my attention that I have not read hardly any well-known fantasy epics: Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, Twilight and Harry Potter.
I aim to fix this. I read the first Twilight book, and I just finished reading The Magician’s Nephew, which is the first book in the Chronicles of Narnia. I have the first Harry Potter book over there on the pile. I am sure I will borrow the Lord of the Rings books as needed.
But as I finish reading all these books (or, as I feel led, individual chunks or chapters), I will post my thoughts on them. I fully acknowledge that I am far behind in my media intake; my roommate, his girlfriend and I are about to set on a quest to watch all of Lost, now that it’s over. I am really far behind. But I aim to catch up, and to keep you all amused along the way.
I read the Chronicles of Narnia when I was very little; early enough in my life that I remember nothing except The Last Battle. I did not know that The Magician’s Nephew was intended to be the first in the series. It makes sense that it is, as it is the creation of Narnia.
I marvel at C.S. Lewis’ straightforward prose. He writes in a truly conversational style; I feel like Jack is telling me a story while we sit around a crackling fire and smoke pipes. His delightful asides and refusal to draw out scenes (which is, conversely, one of the things I love about Brandon Sanderson, whose Warbreaker I am enjoying right now) endear me to his writing style and his stories. The Magician’s Nephew is not a stressful story, even though bad things happen in it. It a marvelous wonder of a thing; a set of events portrayed with little cooked-up drama in language that lifts my soul.
I got shivers when I read the lines where Aslan yells to Fledge “Be the father of all winged horses!” Out of context, it makes little sense and does not induce goosebumps. But in context, it is a wondrous moment; it inspires the imagination to hope on our own God saying such mighty and glorious things to us. We all long for a great purpose, and to see a simple carriage horse redeemed into the father of all winged horses strikes a chord in my soul.
That is the power of The Magician’s Nephew; it takes simple words and crafts them into a simple story that simply moves me. The only argument I have with the piece is something that I praised earlier; several scenes felt like they could have been longer without detracting from the flow of the novel; I would have liked to see the journey to the tree in the far-off lands take longer and have more difficulty. But the moment of truth when Digory decides against eating the apple still has sufficient tension to make me read faster. So even in that argument, there is a counter-argument that C.S. Lewis knew what he was doing in what he chose to do.
In short, I was awed by the concise and distinct power that The Magician’s Nephew possesses. I sighed every time I had to put it down until I finished it. It is easy to see that this book was a product of his later prose of this series rather than his early prose, which is displayed thoroughly in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, which is the next book I’m going to read for “Uh, I read that already.”
The Magician’s Nephew: Read it right stinkin’ now. It will stoke the embers in your soul, no matter how near-death or raging those embers might be at the moment.
